Father
by indraaas
Summary: He had gone from a reclusive hermit to the guardian of five time-traveling Slayers in the span of a day (or, the one where Acnologia is roped into looking after kids he wants nothing to do with, but along the way finds himself gaining the family he never had).
1. Through The Gate

**A/N:** Holy balls, batman! I'm at it again! Another multi-chapter!

I'm a horrible person for ignoring my on-going ones, but this one took over.

So I take it you all know by now, of my deep and ardent love of the headcanon of Papalogia. I literally changed my penname because I loved it so much.

Blame my Slayer sideblog and the horrible (amazing) influences that are acnologias-ass and kushexi for creating Papalogia fanart that merely fueled my needs. So, I think I can safely declare that what you are about to read today constitutes as the first fic written in regards to Papalogia.

Buckle in folks, this is gonna be a long one.

A couple notes: Acnologia isn't all psycho murder-maniac here. He's still cold and has violent tendencies, but over here, he's a little tamer. This is mostly because of influences that will be explained later on, but for now, if he seems a little off, understand that it's for a reason. Note two: I'm really playing around with canon here. The truth regarding the Gate and all that happened after it brought Natsu and Co. to the future is totally up for interpretation, so this is reflective of my thoughts regarding it.

Other than that, I really hope you enjoy this! I had so much fun writing it.

* * *

Acnologia had been having a rather pleasant Saturday morning.

Pleasant, he felt, was a subjective term. For most, a pleasant Saturday involved no work, maybe some family time, prepping for an evening out, or sleeping in. For the four-hundred and something year old Dragon Slayer-turned-Dragon, a pleasant Saturday constituted as him not having to wake up to a leaky ceiling.

It was degrading, he mused as he padded around his small apartment. Four hundred years ago, he would have been living in palaces stolen from the rulers he had overthrown, but in this godforsaken era, he was forced into a one-bedroom domicile in the heart of Magnolia's roughest neighbourhood.

The Guild he was a reluctant member of, Fairy Tail, had felt that he was more than equipped to deal with the gangsters and mob bosses that infested the area. Even in his human form he was a force to be reckoned with, and he had made that quite apparent upon his arrival all those years ago. Nobody dared to approach him, and people made plenty of room for him when he walked the streets. The arrangement was one he was very comfortable with. He hated humans, after all.

Yet, he found himself constantly in their presence. Try hard as he might to avoid them, he was somehow always brought to close proximity with them in non-hostile environments. In battle, he was more than fine with being near them-he got to kill them, after all, but outside of battle? He was a recluse. He was the exact opposite of a people-person. He had done a fairly decent job of staying a good distance away from them over the centuries, but the moment Fairy Tail had become a legal Guild, he had been roped into joining it by their deceptively powerful first master and one century later he _still_ bore the electric blue insignia on his lower back.

He had spent years trying to figure out just exactly _how_ it had happened, but he had yet to solve that mystery.

Three loud bangs at his door snapped him out of his musings, and one quick inhale confirmed his worst fears.

There was only one idiot who dared to ever knock at his door, and he had the uncanny ability to ruin every decent day he was having by virtue of simply existing.

"What do you want?" Acnologia grumbled as he swung his door open.

God Serena, member of the Ten Wizard Saints, strongest of the Four Gods of Ishgar, and general bane of his existence, smiled brightly up at his long-time enemy (though the blond was under the heavily misguided impression that they were the best of friends) and waved cheerfully. "This God Serena can't come and ensure his best friend is still alive? You should be grateful that I'm gracing you with my holy presence. It's a _healing_ presence, you know?"

"I will rip your spine clean out of your asshole and strangle you with it if you don't tell me what you're actually here for in the next thirty seconds."

"You're certainly in an animated mood today! Normally I have to break something in your house to get you to even acknowledge my existence beyond opening the door for me!"

"Twenty seconds."

"Anna Heartfilia."

Acnologia shut the door.

"Acnologia!" God Serena shouted, pounding on the door. "Acnologia, open up! I know that she's a difficult topic for you, but you need to hear me out here! This is serious!"

"She's dead," the Apocalypse Dragon said coldly, ignoring the way his chest grew heavy with the statement. Heavier than usual, anyway.

"Yes, but you need to know why! Goddammit, Acnologia, open the fucking door! Quit being petulant!"

"Here's for _petulant_ ," the blue-haired man hissed, swinging the door open. God Serena's hand froze just as it was about to ram into his nose, and Acnologia grasped the appendage with a snarl, squeezing it until he heard the bones grinding together. To his credit, the artificial Slayer before him kept a carefully blank face even as his hand fractured. "She died. She was using magic that she had no business messing with, and she paid the fucking price. See if I give a fuck."

"If you don't care, then why are you getting so defensive?" the nineteen-year-old challenged. Acnologia's eyes darkened, but he made no rebuttal. The little shit was getting too mouthy for his own good. The older male held back the pulse of dark magic that threatened to escape him. God Serena was strong, but he was young. If he so chose to, he could wipe him out without a second thought. Unfortunately, the Fairies didn't seem to take homicide all too kindly, so he was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. On one hand, he would finally have an excuse to leave (it _definitely_ had nothing to do with the fact that he felt obligated to a certain blond nuisance who looked way too similar to the one before him to keep the Guild intact). On the other, LiVo didn't seem like something he could access while escaping authorities, and he was rather attached to his crime procedurals.

"You have a minute," Acnologia finally said. God Serena gave him a grateful look as he began to speak at a breakneck pace.

"She was trying to bring Slayers through the Gate. Kid Slayers. They just showed up at her family estate this week, and it seems that they have no idea what the hell is going on. Anna's descendant, Layla, was the one who supplied the power for the receiving end, and she's dying. It required her life force to fulfill the requirements. Thing is, her husband isn't too keen on this, and the second she's dead, those kids are out on the streets to fend for themselves. Look, the Council-"

But Acnologia was deaf to the world. God Serena continued to babble on about the Council, but Acnologia found he couldn't care less. Anna, _his Anna_ , had died trying to bring Slayer children to the future. He had spent four centuries trying to figure out why she had been so keen on opening that contraption from Hell, and the answer, the fruits of her labour, had finally made themselves known.

Two lives, both hers and her descendant's, in exchange for, what, two? Three? Slayer children were a rare breed back then, if he remembered it correctly. It was more likely that an adult would hold that power. Nevertheless. He would settle the balance.

An eye for an eye. They had killed her, so he would kill them, and all would be right in the world.

"-agree?"

"What?" Acnologia shook himself out of his murderous thoughts. God Serena huffed, but gently repeated, "Do you agree?"

"To?"

"Look after them."

"What the _fuck?_ " Acnologia sputtered, genuinely taken by surprise at the turn of this conversation. He knew the Council was missing one of many screws vital to performance, but surely there was at least one mentally stable member on there. How in the hell had they come to the conclusion that he would serve as an adequate babysitter? He could barely look after himself.

"Look, you and I are the only Slayers in existence here. I can't do it because I'm busy with the Wizard Saints and I'm barely legal as is. You're from their time, you knew Anna, and you're an actual Dragon Slayer, trained by Dragons. Or...well, I mean, you used to be. I think you still count, though. Point is, you're best equipped to deal with them. Please, Acnologia?"

"Absolutely fucking _not_ ," he snarled. "Take them to an orphanage. Divide them between legal Guilds. _Give them to Bob_ , I don't give two ounces of a single fuck, I'm not looking after those menaces."

"So Anna will have died in vain, then?" the blond slammed his hand against the door as the Apocalypse Dragon moved to close it. His blue eyes burned holes into his head. "Her sacrifice will have been for nothing? Clearly, she thought dying was worth something if it meant bringing them here, and if you can't respect that then maybe it's good that she died for them instead of you somewhere down the line because you obviously don't love her as much as she did!"

God Serena wheezed as all the air was forced out of his lungs. He felt his shoulder-blades creak in protest to being pressed up against the wall, and he knew his ribs were fractured at the very least. The hand at his throat tightened threateningly, digging sharp claws into pale flesh just enough to draw little beads of blood to the surface. Acnologia radiated cold fury, trembling imperceptibly from the force of his anger. " _Watch yourself_ ," he barked.

"Hey!" a high-pitched voice piped up. "Leggo o' him!"

Acnologia turned his head just enough to spot five little...gremlins. There really was no other word to describe them. Tiny for their age, skinny to the point where he could see bone, and dirty enough to disgust even him, four boys and one girl faced off against him in a battle of the eyes.

Well, only three of them actually seemed to engage in a glaring competition. The little boy with close-cut black hair was holding the little girl's hand tightly as she shook violently, tears running down her face. He dropped his grip on the older blond, who gasped for air and coughed to lubricate his throat, and faced them fully, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What in the ever loving fuck?"

The little blond boy gasped. "You saided a bad word!"

"Shaddap, Sting," the boy with the hair as wild as his own grumbled. "Ya know I swear just as bad and ya ne'er complain."

"'Cause Weisslogia tol' me that Metalicana grew you up a wild animal," Sting nodded. Acnologia furrowed his brows. These names were familiar...

Weisslogia and Metalicana. The Light and Iron Dragons. He remembered the both of them as vulgar pranksters, but Metalicana took the vulgarity to a whole new level. In fact, Acnologia was certain that half the curses that existed today were due to his influence.

"Why're you hurtin' Serena?" the one with the pink hair demanded. Acnologia stared at him blankly. That smell...that fiery tone...

"Igneel," he finally murmured. "The King of the Dragons."

"You know my dad?!" the boy exclaimed. "Where is he? Are you a friend of his?"

"We...knew each other," he said slowly. How was he supposed to put into words the child would understand how much he absolutely loathed the overgrown lizard? Just saying his name brought a bad taste to his mouth. "I know your dragons, too. Weisslogia and Metalicana."

The three boys perked up and immediately began shouting, clamouring over and pulling at his pants, urging him to give them more information on their dragons. He ignored them in favour of staring at the two quietest ones.

"Skiadrum," the little boy said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Ah. That explained his silence. Skiadrum always did prefer staying shut up and in the shadows, no pun intended.

The little girl opened her mouth, but her voice caught and she devolved into another round of pitiful wails. Sighing softly, Acnologia drew in a deep breath and took in her scent.

His eyes shot open in brief surprise a moment later.

Grandeeney had taken on a charge, then. It was expected of her. She never could turn down a pair of soulful eyes, and the little girl had the most honest, wide, doe-like eyes he had ever had the misfortune of staring into.

It was kind of gross how expressive they were.

"So?" God Serena rasped, rubbing his throat as he stood by Acnologia. "You in?"

Acnologia shook his head. "Give them to someone capable of looking after them, Serena. I live in a one-bedroom apartment in an area of Magnolia that even _full-grown Mages_ stay away from. What makes you think that it's a suitable environment to raise the brats?"

"It's okay," the little girl finally said. Silence fell over the group as they stared at her. It appeared she was the silent type even amongst her friends, for the four boys' jaws went slack once she spoke. She walked towards him slowly, and he could tell that she was trying hard not to trip over her own feet.

"It's okay if the house is small," she refused to look at him. "We can all stay together. I don't wanna be alone anymore."

" _And you'll never have to be alone anymore!"_

 _She takes his hand and he swears that home is right there in her grasp._

"-oops!"

Acnologia was crouching down and helping her up before he even realized that he had moved. Almost robotically, he adjusted her long shirt and dusted her knees.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, bowing deeply. He could smell salt forming in the air and groaned. This was why he had disliked Grandeeney-she was too emotional, and it stood to reason that any child of hers would be equally impassioned.

"…fine," he finally assented. He decided right there and then that the girl was the most dangerous of the lot. She was way too good at the whole…helpless-yet-hopeful eyed thing. The pink-haired one and Sting whooped in joy, while Metalicana's kid turned to Skiadrum's and dug his knuckles into his head with a bright grin. The little girl smiled, just a little quirk of the corner of her lips, and he sighed.

What in hell had he just signed up for?

"You're the best!" God Serena crowed, jumping on his back and sending him careening face-first onto the floor. Acnologia snarled wordlessly, ready to shove the little shit off and beat him into next week. Just as he was about to ram his elbow back into the Wizard Saint's face, two blurs of yellow and pink flew at him.

"Dragon pile!" Sting yelled, latching onto the darker man's head with a gusto. The pink-haired one imitated his blond counterpart from the side opposite him, and Acnologia was left feeling like he was wearing a halo-brace, but much, much tighter. They had deceptively powerful grips. He gasped when God Serena sat up on his back, crossing his legs and grabbing his hair as if it were a rein.

"I wanna do it, too!" the Iron Slayer shouted, taking his place on top of his shoulder-blades. His fellow brunet ambled over to join him. Acnologia was grateful for the fact that this one didn't seem to want to add to the pile of gremlins on his back.

"Thank you, mister."

His blue eyes locked with the little girl's soft brown ones, and Acnologia silently promised himself that if there was one thing he was going to see to, it was that this one stopped being so fucking expressive. He had absolutely no time to deal with tears and emotions that didn't involve anger at everything.

"Acnologia," he bit out when God Serena pulled his hair warningly. "My name is Acnologia."

"I'm Wendy Marvell," she introduced herself. Acnologia almost snorted. Wendy. Windy. Grandeeney always had been rather fond of puns.

"I'm Natsu! Natsu Dragneel!" the pink-haired one declared. At this, he nearly banged his head on the floor. Igneel was lucky he was likely dead because if he weren't, he would have been at this point in time. How unoriginal could he _get_?

"Gajeel Redfox," Metalicana's brat called from his back.

"Ryos Cheney," the quiet one murmured, just as the blond menace version 2.0 yelled, "And I'm Sting Eucliffe!"

"I am the great God Serena! Most powerful of the Four Gods of Ishgar, and most powerful Slayer in existence! I-" as he continued to list his 'many' accolades (half of which were completely made up), Acnologia resigned himself to closing his eyes and tuning out the noise.

It would be a while before he finished.

"-winner of Hottest Man Alive two years in a row-!"

Five down, six hundred and ninety-five more to go.

* * *

"The Council's on the hunt for a new house for you so you can all fit," God Serena patted Acnologia's shoulder as he made his way to the door. "Don't worry!"

"I've lived here for over thirty years!" Acnologia hissed. If there was one thing he was bad at, it was change. It was probably why he avoided contact with the outside world unless absolutely necessary-the last time he had been ordered to visit the Guild, he had almost had a heart attack upon sighting an SE-Plug. Gildartz had declared him a luddite, whatever that was.

"And it's about time you moved. New life, new start, all that jazz," the teen threw up the peace sign, sauntering out with sway to his hips. "I'll tell you when you can move! Expect it to be sometime this week, so get your shit all packed! I mean, it'll take you a day considering you own, like, two shirts, but."

"Fuck off!" Acnologia shouted, slamming the door harshly enough to cause the wall to shake. Exhaling sharply, he whipped around and caught sight of the five gremlins (he adamantly refused to call them anything else) staring around in wide-eyed wonder.

"It's raining inside!" Natsu said, pointing to a section of the roof that was leaking steadily. The Apocalypse Dragon's eye twitched. He had just repaired that section.

"Where do I piss?" Gajeel asked.

"Do you have anything else we can wear?" Sting crossed his arms.

"It's cold," Ryos piped up.

"Um, I'm sorry, but do you have anything to eat?" Wendy twiddled her fingers shyly.

"Why is the wall black in the corner?"

"Yo, I need ta piss, either tell me or I'm leakin' right here."

"Why is your couch so gross?"

"Do you know when our parents are going to come for us?"

It was official.

He was going to go insane. It had barely been five minutes and he already felt like ripping out his hair strand by strand and knitting a lovely scarf out of it.

Why in the hell did people have kids if they were this annoying?

"It's called a leak, the bathroom is that way, I have a box of shirts somewhere, the thermostat is broken, maybe, that's mold, if you piss here I will rip out your eyebrows, it's twenty years old, and no," he rattled off his answers quickly. At the last part, all of their faces fell and he could smell salt in the air again.

Ah, shit. Three of them were getting teary.

"Look," he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his best to stay calm. It would be of no benefit to either party if he started yelling, and if he told them that their parents were very likely dead then it would be nothing short of hell and a half getting them to stay calm. "Your parents…left you with me for a while. They're on a mission."

He almost smacked himself. What mission could five dragons possibly have been sent on?

Luckily for him, the gremlins seemed awestruck by the concept. Even Ryos' eyes had gone wide, and from what little he knew of the kid he seemed difficult to impress.

"What kinda mission?" Gajeel asked suspiciously.

"To kill an evil mage," he replied. Mentally, he began running through a list of evil mages from that era. If there was someone vaguely recognizable it'd be more believable, but he could fake one if need be. It wasn't as if five year olds kept up with political drama.

"Which one?"

"Zeref."

Acnologia bit his tongue. Shit. That name was far too recognizable, even now. If one of them went looking him up…

"Okay!" Natsu bashed his fists together and nodded. "Igneel'll kill him in no time!"

"Weisslogia'll kill 'im first!" Sting reared his head back and crashed it into Natsu's forehead. The pink-haired boy reeled back in shock before gathering his wits and returning the gesture. "Hell no!"

"Yer 'bathroom' is tiny," Gajeel complained. Acnologia hadn't even noticed him make his way over there. The Iron Slayer looked into the tiny room with disgust clear on his face.

"You brats didn't even have bathrooms back then," he mumbled quietly enough that they wouldn't be able to hear. He was quite proud of his bathroom. It was probably the neatest place in the house.

"I wanna take a bath," Sting raised his hand. "I'm goin' first."

"No, I am!"

"No, me!"

"Me!"

"Me!"

"We'll do this is reverse alphabetical. You, blue one, you first," Wendy perked up while the other three groaned. Ryos just stared at him silently.

It was starting to get creepy.

"Um...Acnologia-san? How do you make the water come?"

It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

After everybody had figured out how to turn the tap on (and what a showerhead was. _No, it was not for fighting, put that down you pink-haired freak of nature-_ ) and how much soap was enough to lather and not cause a bubble flood akin to the one from when Makarov's grandkid had accidentally thrown in too much detergent in the washing machine, Acnologia had turned on the Lacrima-vision and let them gawk at the news while waiting for their turn in the shower. While they were distracted, he decided to brave the mess that was his closet for something clean for them to wear.

He blanched when he realized he would have to go out with them to buy clothes.

"What are you doing?" Ryos asked quietly. The proclaimed bringer of chaos fought back the instinctive desire to smack the kid across the room for sneaking up on him, and settled for jerking ever so slightly. He wasn't used to being snuck up on. Skiadrum had done a good job with this one, he would admit that much.

"Getting you clothes."

Bingo. There were two clean black shirts right on the hangers. Three more to go.

"Oh."

Acnologia plucked a white wife beater off a pile in the corner and sniffed it delicately. Clean enough, he supposed.

"Do you have salve?" that had him turning around in mild curiousity. "For?"

"We all woke up a little hurt. Lady Heartfilia tried to help, but I think the dressings are getting old," Ryos explained.

"Do you remember anything?" Acnologia asked as he rose with five shirts in hand and strode over to his side table. He had a first aid kit stored in there somewhere. Meanwhile, interest raged within him. They had yet to mention the Gate or Anna, and all he really cared about was the latter. Had they even met their saviour?

"We only met a few days ago," Ryos said. "Skiadrum wanted us to get to know each other so we could be friends. We went to bed one night and woke up in the same field, but we couldn't smell them. Lady Heartfilia was there and she led us home, but she was sick. That's when God Serena came and got us. He told us that you were one of the only Slayers he knew of in the area."

So even Serena had lied. They had no idea that they had traveled four hundred years into the future. They had no idea that someone had died to keep them safe. Someone close to Acnologia. Heat bubbled in his chest and he fought to keep his composure still. He wanted to know what was so dangerous back then that Anna had died to save them. What the hell had been so urgent that he had lost the one person he had ever truly cared for as she strove to ensure their safety first. Whatever it was, he would have been capable of handling it if she had just fucking _asked._

What was so special about them, dammit?

"Here," Acnologia held out the kit. Ryos furrowed his brows. "What do I do with it?"

Huffing shortly, the blue-haired man popped open the kit and indicated that he should sit down. "Where are you hurt?"

Ryos rolled up his pants leg and pointed to a shallow gash. "I took off the dressings."

There was no point in asking how the kid had sustained the injury. It was probably something that had occurred in the _past_ -past. It didn't seem to be the product of magic, but he couldn't rule out melee. Acnologia swiped at the cut with one of the wet wipes and slathered on some of the clear paste that Porlyusica had provided him with. "Don't dress it tonight, it'll be fine in the morning."

"Thank you," Ryos nodded, standing up. "I'm going to go and watch the…um…"

"Lacrima-vision," Acnologia supplied.

"Ah."

He changed his mind, Acnologia mused as the kid left the room. He quite liked this one. He was blunt. A rare quality in this era.

* * *

Acnologia had discovered three things during dinner that night.

One. The Slayer children had voracious appetites. It was like they hadn't eaten in eons, the way they stuffed themselves with his leftover takeout. He would have to go shopping for actual healthy food along with the clothes. It wasn't as if they could live on a diet of hakka chow mein and sesame chicken forever. He was pretty sure that could kill them.

Two. They had zero table manners. Wendy and Ryos made attempts with the cutlery, while Natsu and Sting went at the food with their hands, and Gajeel was quite content to eat his spoons and forks. That brought up the issue of elemental food. Metal, fire, and air was easily accessible. Where in hell was he supposed to buy shadows and light so they could eat on demand?

Three. They were deceptively small for their ages. Natsu and Gajeel were a whopping seven years old, yet their tiny statures had them at the same physical appearance as the other three, who were five. He couldn't ever remember being that small. At all. Had they not been trained enough? He had met children their age in the Guild who were easily twice as tall and they trained day in and day out. Maybe it was one of those evolutionary things that Precht used to bitch about back in the day. He had never really paid attention.

"Where do we sleep?" Natsu asked.

Fuck. He hadn't thought about that. His bed was big enough to fit all five, so that left him with the options of the sofa or the nasty old roll out bed stored under said sofa.

"Follow me," he led them to his room and jerked his head in the direction of the bed. "There."

"Where will you sleep?" Wendy stared up at him with worried eyes. He almost gagged. He hadn't seen so much concern roll off a person for a virtual stranger since Mavis, and he knew from experience that the three-foot tall tactician had been as naïve as could get when it came to people. She had let Zeref train her, after all, and if that wasn't straight up idiocy, he didn't know what was.

"Sofa," he replied shortly. "Now get in."

It took a few minutes for them to find an arrangement that wouldn't end up in complete bloodshed. In the end, Natsu and Gajeel took up the corner spaces, with Wendy, Sting, and Rogue filling the middle in that order.

As he turned to leave, Sting's voice stopped him.

"Thanks, Acnologia-san! You're really nice, y'know?"

A small part of him died at that. There had been exactly four people in the world who had declared him 'nice' prior to this kid. Three of them were dead, and the other was on his way to being killed at his hands.

Now that he thought about it, all of them were blonde, too.

Huh.

"Shut up," he deadpanned, closing the door without waiting for any other shows of gratitude. He could live his whole life without being called 'nice', and it would be a blessed existence indeed. He was the Apocalypse Dragon, dammit. The one that parents told their kids would come and eat them if they didn't do as they were told. He was not…nice.

Cruel. Vicious. Demonic. Monstrous. Murderer. All of those were acceptable adjectives.

He plopped down on his sofa and prepared for yet another night of tossing and turning. Turning over to avoid being stabbed at by a loose spring, Acnologia wondered if he was going soft. If he had been asked to do this fifty years ago, he would've answered with an Apocalypse Dragon's Roar and laughed as the gremlins screamed for mercy. Now, he was creating a mental itinerary for tomorrow's trip for supplies.

"Item one," he muttered, rolling over and burying his face in the musty cushions. "Research torture from X400 and select one method to apply to Serena."

Between entertaining his murder fantasies, Acnologia couldn't help but let his thoughts stray to Anna. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to think about her. After all, every time he did he wound up with a weight on his chest that refused to budge. This time, however, when he thought of her it was…fine. No pain. Just a weariness that was brought on by years of silent mourning and festered hate. He wasn't sure if that was any better, but at least it was something.

He groaned quietly when he detected the faintest hint of tears in the air.

There was no way he was going to deal with them getting all upset in the middle of the night, so he buried his face in deeper into the cushions and hoped that the dust would mask it just enough that he could _attempt_ to get some rest.

Acnologia was definitely not having a pleasant Saturday.

* * *

 **A/N:** If you can't tell already, implied Annalogia.

If it seemed rushed, I apologize. This was a fairly dry chapter in terms of content simply because it was the introduction. Rest assured that it will reach a steady pace in the next chapter. I just needed to get the whole...you know, "shit I've got kids now" shock of the first day over with, and it seemed best to do so in this way.

Thanks for reading!

-Touko


	2. Quintuplets

**A/N:** this is a mess and I kind of love it. If you follow me on tumblr then you know that I've spent basically every moment between the first chapter of Father to this update writing for the papalogia au, so I find that I'm now comfortable enough to update this. I love this family so much.

* * *

Serena hadn't been exaggerating when he had said that Acnologia owned two shirts.

One was what he had dubbed his 'fancy shirt', which was really just a cheap black button up he had bought at a liquidation sale fifteen years ago, and the other was a plain grey top with what appeared to be either a ketchup or a blood stain near the bottom. The shirts he had pawned off to the gremlins were less 'shirts' in his mind and more along the lines of 'box liners' considering how old they were. Nevertheless, they were good enough to work as night clothes while the apparel they had come with was being cleaned.

Acnologia sighed, tapping his index finger against the hanger of the black button up. Last he had checked it was generally frowned upon to visit the store in nothing but tattered pants, so he would have to cover up a little. While the grey top was more comfortable, the stain would cast a negative impression upon him. Stains meant uncleanliness and that meant people would perceive him as dirty and unable to look after himself. Lazy, even. Four centuries had done nothing to lessen his ego; Acnologia was a proud man and did not take well to being judged, so he sighed and pulled the shirt off the hanger and slipped it on. He frowned as he reached the last button. It was a little tight…

It was the increase in muscle, he told himself. There was no way someone as rigorous in diet and exercise as himself could be getting fat.

After finding a pair of black pants hidden behind a box of old magazines and yanking those on with little difficulty, he moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Idly, he wondered if they were allergic to anything. It would be a pain in the ass like no other if he had to make a concentrated effort to keep certain foods out of the house. He was aware that peanut butter was a huge allergen and that people could die if they ingested it. There was a boy in the Guild - Rudolf? Randy? Richard? - who he knew carried around one of those pen-things because of his peanut allergy. Mentally, he shrugged it off. If they had survived time travel, they could survive a couple peanuts, and if they couldn't, then that was just natural selection doing its job.

"...shit," he cursed quietly. The fridge contained exactly one carton full of eggs, one bag of milk, and what appeared to be an expired jar of marmalade. He eyed the half empty bag of bread on the counter and the cupboard above it.

Would they consider coffee an acceptable breakfast…?

Unbidden, the image of the Dreyar brat hyped up on caffeine at the tender age of six came to mind. He blanched and shook his head.

Milk and scrambled eggs it was.

* * *

Capitalism, Acnologia decided, was the definition of true evil.

It accounted for a lot of horrible things in life, including the invention of that godforsaken Monopoly board-game. But his qualms had nothing to do with the infernal pastime (today, anyway). No, today it had everything to do with inflation.

Since when had a simple, white sundress gone up from 600 Jewel to 1500?

"This looks nice," the girl (Winona? Windy?) said. She pawed through the dress rack, eyeing the different colour variations of the same design. Settling on a dark blue one with a frilly yellow trim, she looked up at him expectantly. He shrugged and tossed it in the cart.

"Look for something more practical," he instructed her. "Daily wear. Like the other brats."

Wanda - or was it Willow? - blinked owlishly. "Um, A-Acnologia-san...I don't see the others."

"Motherfucker," he snarled. A woman nearby with her son shot him a scandalized look, and her jaw dropped when she spotted Wendy standing next to him.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, swearing in front of your daughter like that!" she scolded. "She's young and very impressionable! My word, parents these days…"

Acnologia wasn't sure what he needed to address first: the fact that some random _woman_ had just scolded him in public and he hadn't ripped off her limbs in retaliation, or the fact that someone had mistaken Whitney as his own flesh and blood. Either way, it didn't matter as whatsherface had just moved down to the pampers aisle and he was more preoccupied with finding four extremely young and destructive dragon slayers in a crowded store.

"Winnifred," he called the girl. She tilted her head in confusion and pointed to herself. "M-me?"

"Who else is standing in this vicinity, kid."

"U-um. My name is W-Wendy...sorry!" she squeaked. He almost winced. How could he have forgotten? Windy Wendy. Grandeeney and her stupid puns.

"Right. Where did the gremlins go?"

Wendy sniffed the air carefully. He raised a heavy brow in vague surprise. She was what, four, five? Scent-tracking was an incredibly difficult feat for any slayer given how overwhelming it could be to the olfactory receptors, especially with a slayer so young. Though it was true that older, more experienced slayers were more proficient at scent-tracking, it was the younger slayers who managed to pick up more. That posed a severe disadvantage, however, as they couldn't handle the overload that they had yet to learn to tolerate and sift through. He supposed she was at a biological edge, given her magic. He'd only ever met with three or four air-based dragons and their respective slayers and he found that they had an easier time scent-tracking because they were so used to manipulating the air around them that it was only natural for them to manipulate the air to focus on whatever scent they happened to be looking for.

This one could be quite formidable if she grew a backbone.

"U-um...I think they're by the food aisle," Wendy said meekly.

"Which is where?" Oh, he could read the signs, all right. He knew it was three aisles down the left, but he was curious as to how proficient she was with her heightened senses. Wendy paused for a second and then pointed in the correct direction. "That way?"

"Hn." She brightened at his affirmation. He almost rolled his eyes as he pushed the loaded cart down to the food aisle. Grandeeney was never one to cut back on the praise, so why this kid looked so happy at his simple agreement was beyond him.

Any further contemplation was cut short when he caught sight of Igneel 2.0 stacked on top of Metalhead, trying to grab a packet of chicken thighs off the second level of the freezer.

"Oi!" he barked. Startled, Igneel 2.0 toppled backwards into blondie's waiting arms. Blondie then proceeded to buckle under the unexpected weight, only for the quiet emo one to catch him from behind. Balance was only restored for the two seconds between emo catching him and Metalhead slipping back and knocking everyone down.

Blondie whimpered for all of three seconds before Acnologia's blank stare shut him up.

"What the hell were you idiots doing?"

Igneel 2.0 pointed to the chicken. "Why is it in packets?"

A man across them gave the boy an odd look until Acnologia said, "They're from Bosco." The man's face relaxed and he nodded, going back to his business. It was common knowledge that people from Bosco had some odd traditions, so never having seen packaged meat in a store wasn't beyond the scope of what was possible. Acnologia knew for a fact that they hunted fresh meat and salted it over the winter for preservation, so it wasn't sold in stores. The only thing Bosco really sold was _people_. Every market was just a face for some illegal trafficking.

Even he found the practice vile, and that was saying something.

"It's how it works here," he answered him. "You don't hunt meat. You just buy it."

"Oh, okay," Igneel 2.0 said. Emo (Rodney?) furrowed his brows. "What is a Jewel?"

"Currency," he said shortly. When all five stared up at him in confusion, he amended, "Instead of bartering items, we use paper and metal of an assigned value in exchange for these goods."

The only people who seemed to understand were Wendy and Roy, but he counted that as a win regardless.

"What's that?" Gerald pointed to a carton of Jell-O. Acnologia hesitated before providing the name. Jell-O had sugar and sugar was the bane of every adult who looked after a child. Sugar meant no sleep and bouncing off the walls and he had neither the time nor the patience to reign the little bastards in. He almost groaned when George put the Jell-O in the cart. If he took it away then Gerry would start throwing a fit and he didn't want to deal with that. He resolved to hide the snack as soon as he could to avoid the sugar-hype.

"A-Acnologia-san?" Wendy tugged his pant leg lightly. "N-Natsu and Sting ran off…"

"Motherfucker!"

* * *

"If you little fucks ever pull a stunt like that again I will personally see to it that you never leave the house without a leash on," Acnologia snarled. Natsu and Sting had twin pouts on their face, but it was only because they were the only two who hadn't gotten cotton candy on their way out of the store.

After a swearing fit that had Gajeel's eyes glinting in a way that promised he would soon come to regret cussing in front of him, Acnologia had dragged the remaining three brats over to the side of the store he could smell the troublemakers at. His desire to keep them on permanent house arrest only increased when he saw the two covered in bright pink cotton candy. Sting had coated his hair so thickly that if it weren't for the difference in eye colour, he and Natsu could have passed for identical twins. The cotton candy spinner tried to get him to pay for the wasted confection, but one dark glare from the dragon of the apocalypse had him waving them away (but not before Acnologia had demanded that the other three get full sticks of it, just to punish double trouble, as he had dubbed them).

"It smelled yummy!" Natsu protested. "Why can't I jus' take it? 's what we did back home!"

 _Because back home was four-hundred years ago, you absolute dumbass, and back then grocery stores and capitalism didn't exist,_ he thought to himself. _Well, capitalism probably did, but that's besides the point. I killed people back then and nobody tried to stop me. If I kill people now, I'll be on the six o'clock news and awaiting trial. I miss the X300's._

"Because Fiore is different, now shut up," he snapped. "Here, you two can have a Jell-O if you stay quiet." Gajeel almost dropped his stick. "Tha's my Jell-O!"

"I paid for it, so I decide what gets done with it. When you start earning and buying shit, you decide what you wanna do with it," Acnologia replied. As Natsu and Sting eagerly dug into their sugary delights (with their bare hands, he was mildly horrified to note), Roger turned to stare at him with curiously dull red eyes.

"You don't like us, do you?" The question was blunt and to the point. Silence fell over the group as he considered his options.

 _If I say yes then they'll start bitching. Bitching kids in public is a nuisance. They're also less likely to co-operate later on. If I say no then they'll get attached and think I like them. I want them gone as soon as possible._

He settled for a short, "You weren't part of my plans."

A woman passing by raised an eyebrow at the gaggle of children. "Nobody expects quintuplets, hon. Your poor wife…"

Acnologia had never craved death as much as he did in that very moment.

"What's a quintuplet?"

He stared at the river longingly. It wasn't nearly deep enough to fling himself into for results.

* * *

It was true what they said about shitty days being like exponential functions: just when you think you've hit an all time low, it gets lower.

"If it isn't the black dragon of chaos himself," Ivan Dreyar purred. "Out for the first time in decades."

"Yeah," Acnologia said. "I can tell it's been a while; your hair is starting to go white."

Ivan bristled slightly and the immortal smirked lightly in response. He had never liked the third master's son. To say Ivan was odd was putting it lightly. Every time Acnologia so much as entered the same room as him, the hairs on the back of his neck would rise along with the urge to rip him in half. Perhaps it had to do with two severely alpha-male personalities being in the same room, but he had never had the same problem with Gildartz, so he assumed it was long buried survival instincts telling him to wipe out a threat before it caused any actual trouble.

It wasn't as if his hatred was completely unwarranted, either. Ivan had tried his best growing up to cause as much harm to him as possible. Acnologia could account for at least three scars on his person that hailed from Ivan's magic (some hellish paper-thing, if he was correct). Acnologia wasn't quite sure why Ivan held an animosity towards him, but he grasped at any excuse to justify his homicidal thoughts towards the man.

"I didn't know the Council sanctioned an adoption for you, Acnologia," Ivan said. "I didn't know you were interested in parenting either."

"Well, if the Council still has you listed as a father, I'm sure it can justify me as a temporary guardian," he sneered lightly. His electric blue eyes fell to the youngest Dreyar, who flinched back under his scrutinizing glare.

At the tender age of twelve, Laxus Dreyar was probably the weakest mage Fairy Tail had ever produced. He had always been a sickly child, prone to lung infections and the like, and, as a result, was scrawny and tired easily. He had a weak affinity for lightning magic (something he remembered Yuriy, Laxus's great-grandfather, was a master at), but even creating small sparks drained his virtually non-existent magical container. He was shy, but polite and always smiling. Ivan detested him, Makarov adored him, and Acnologia almost pitied him.

Almost.

"I've done a fine job considering what I have to work with," Ivan spat. Laxus continued to stare fixedly at the ground. Natsu frowned and walked over, extending his half-eaten Jell-O container. "Want?"

"Not allowed."

"Why?"

"Unhealthy."

"Oh. That means it's bad an' stuff, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"And who might you be?" Ivan asked, leaning down to Natsu's level. The boy held out a sticky hand. "Natsu. You got a big nose. 'S'at mean you lie lots?"

"No," Ivan said. Acnologia was pleased to note that he looked almost affronted at the question. Perhaps Igneel 2.0 wasn't as much of a waste as he thought he was. Anyone who managed to insult Ivan was half-decent in his books.

"Where are you from?" Ivan asked again. Acnologia had a brief moment of panic before Rudy said, "Bosco. I am Rogue."

Rogue shot Acnologia an oddly meaningful look for a five-year-old. He knew he was lying about his land of origin - the continent hadn't even been divided into formal countries four-hundred years ago, so the only time he could have heard Bosco was at the store. Rogue was intuitive, he decided, and that would get him far in life.

This one he could grow to trust.

"Ry-" Sting opened his mouth, only to be purse his lips a second later.

Ryos. Rogue's real name was Ryos.

 _Why did he lie about his name?_

"Bosco is a long way to come from. Why would the Council ship you all off here to be looked after by Acnologia?" The man in question curled his lip back in disgust. Ivan was well aware that children were poor liars and that the best way to get genuine answers was to interrogate them. Laxus's blue eyes darkened with sympathy - Acnologia could only imagine the kind of hellish questioning he had been through in his youth.

"'Cause we're dragon slayers and he's s'pposed ta look after us 'cause he's also a slayer," Gajeel answered bluntly.

Ivan's face lit up at the tidbit, just as Acnologia stiffened.

He could smell something close to glee radiating off him. Ivan knew full well that Acnologia was a slayer, but he had never reacted like this when he learned of the fact all those years ago.

Something was wrong.

"Slayer children? How fascinating! All five of you?" Only Wendy seemed to shrink back under his beady eyes. She could probably smell the unnatural joy, while the others' undeveloped senses only seemed to trigger a slight sense of discomfort in them without knowing why. Sting nodded happily. "Yup!"

"Does the name Bijale-"

"We're going," Acnologia interrupted him. "Ry-Rogue. You lead."

Ryos nodded and tugged at Sting's hand to get them moving down the path. Natsu turned back to wave at Laxus, who lifted his hand shyly in response.

While the children were distracted, the chaos slayer pinned Ivan with cold, unforgiving eyes.

"I don't particularly give a fuck as to what you do on a day-to-day basis, but these gremlins are under my watch for now, so let's make one thing clear: I may hate them, but I'm always looking for an excuse to rid the planet of your existence, so if you so much as _look_ at them, that's all the justification I need to kill you."

Ivan's previously cheery face melted into disdain. "Awfully sweet of you to care. You're getting soft."

"And you're growing senile in your old age if you think that."

"I would be careful if I were you, Acnologia," Ivan called as the immortal began to walk away. "You never know when a more powerful slayer will rise to take over your position."

"Those brats can only dream to surpass me," he said simply. Ivan smiled thinly. "I wasn't talking about them. Come, Laxus."

Acnologia frowned as he caught up to the slayers, who had stopped to stare at a group of teens skipping rocks in the canal. There were only seven dragon slayers in Fiore, and five of them were barely old enough to count. The only other possibility was Serena. While the hybrid did have the magical variance he lacked, Serena was short the centuries of experience Acnologia had, and everyone knew it. Even Ivan.

Unless…

The hybrid theory was a project that only twelve people in the entire world knew about - the Wizard Saints, who had come up with it, the king, who had approved it, Acnologia, who had been brought on the committee to provide feedback, and the selected hybrid himself.

God Serena.

Currently host to five different kinds of draconic lacrima, God Serena was one of the first people to have survived the procedure in recorded history, and it was for that reason that the Wizard Saints had decided to turn him into Fiore's most valuable asset. To call him a weapon was too much, in the king's eyes. To call him an asset was to be too gentle, in Acnologia's. Either way, with enough training and lacrima, Serena would soon be strong enough to give even him a run for his money. But Serena would never try to pick a fight with him. Not a fight to the death, anyway.

There was no way that Ivan knew that Serena hosted more than one lacrima, so what had he meant?

His eyes fell to the group of slayers trailing after him like little ducks. They all had the potential to become powerful in their own right, but which one of them would surpass him?

A small part of him wondered what he could do to stop it from ever happening.

* * *

"You lied about your name."

"You lied about where we came from," Ryos said in return. "I am from Geneva. Not Bosco."

"Do you think that people would understand the circumstances of your arrival?" he challenged. "Bosco is the closest to Geneva's traditions that I can use to pass you off as foreigners. Do you want to see your parents hurt in their quest to kill Zeref? If people know where you're from, it will happen."

Ryos flinched. He had hit a sore spot. Acnologia idly wondered what would happen if they knew their parents were already long dead.

"I lied because Skiadrum once told me that to give a stranger your true name is to give them power over you. Names can be used in the darkest of magicks against you," Ryos said. "For that reason, I do not wish to use my real name outside. Rogue is one Skiadrum and I selected together."

"So you wish to be legally known as Rogue?" Acnologia asked. He was mildly impressed, not only because Ryos was able to remember that ancient warning (it was why nobody knew his real name), but because of his eloquence. Skiadrum had gone through great pains to educate the boy.

"Yes."

Acnologia pressed a thumb to Ryos's forehead and dragged it up well past his hairline, stopping just short of the very center of his skull. "Hereinafter, you are Rogue Cheney. Ryos is no more."

"Yes." Rogue bowed his head respectfully.

Wendy may have had the potential to become a formidable opponent, but Rogue would certainly become the most adept leader.

* * *

 **A/N:** literally the only thing I had planned for this chapter was inserting as much mall-craziness as I could, but then I was like 'I could also just introduce a mini-story arc and save said craziness for the first time the kids go to the Guild' and that's what happened. So enjoy plot. If any of you can guess what Ivan was trying to say before Acno cut him off, you are a winner. All of you are winners, but the one who guesses correctly is a double winner.

Acno is actually a horrible parent and person, but what can you expect? The guy is a loner and asshole. He'll learn. Hopefully. That last part with Rogue actually wasn't planned at all. I just needed to find a way to get him to go from Ryos to Rogue, so why not use it as an excuse to build Rogue-Acno fam by having them bond over traditions and old magic? (Funny story, that whole names have power thing is the reason I never give my real name out online. I don't believe in magic and all that shit, but my mom did tell me that people can cast negativity on you if they know your name, so I mean...it stuck!)

Also, this is unedited because it's 4 AM, so I'll probably fix spelling and grammar errors in the morning. I just wanted to publish this. Enjoy!

-Touko


	3. Ice Cream Simple

**A/N:** short and sweet, really! Dedicated to GemNika, who wanted a liiiiiiittle more papa out there :)

* * *

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

 _Breathe in-_

"Whatcha doin'?"

 _Breathe out._

Acnologia cracked an eye open and was greeted by a shock of pink hair. On the outside, he remained blank-faced. On the inside, he was counting down the various ways he could put himself out of his misery all while remaining in his cross-legged position.

It was close to five in the morning. Didn't kids _like_ sleeping in? The Dreyer brat was the sole exception to this rule, what with his drill sergeant of a father operating on a rise and grind lifestyle. Other than that? Every kid loved sleeping in. Clive's daughter (not that Clive knew that she was his child) was the resident champion of waking up at noon. The Fullbuster shithead could sleep for weeks if he was given the opportunity. Why was it that these gremlins went against the current?

Perhaps it was jetlag. Horrible, interdimensional jetlag that would go away if he crushed enough sleeping pills in their food. Not the most popular (or legal) of options, but…

"Meditating," Acnologia grunted.

"Oh. Can I?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Sit down, shut up, and focus on your breathing."

Natsu did as he was instructed, scrambling to cross his legs up in the lotus like he was. Acnologia almost snorted. The kid was lacking the flexibility to do so, but his attempt was admirable. Granted, the way Natsu's ankle was angled meant that if he twitched wrong it would probably break, but it was an attempt nonetheless.

Acnologia closed his eyes and went back to his breathing, inhaling and exhaling so quietly that even a dragon would have difficulty hearing it.

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out_.

 _Breathe in._

 _Breathe out._

 _Breathe in-_

"This is boring!" Natsu complained. "I wanna train! Let's train!"

"This is training," Acnologia said. "Mental training. And it helps focus your magic. If you're not gonna sit down and meditate, then fuck off."

As a curious glint overtook Natsu's dark green eyes, a sense of dread shrouded Acnologia.

"What's a fuck?"

* * *

Every parent had their own method dealing with their child's bullshit.

Some employed the use of time-out chairs/corners/walls/mats/whatever godforsaken area of the house was within reach. Others opted for taking away their beloved objects. There were a select few who just threw their hands up in defeat because _there's no way to reason with a child, they just don't understand._

Acnologia was different. In his day (and technically the gremlins'. They did hail from the same era but there was a generational gap) misbehaviour led to the biggest ass-whooping of the century - or week - because there was simply no excuse for not understanding instructions. In this age that was considered immoral. Acnologia himself couldn't care less, but knowing that Mavis would punt his ass to another dimension for even thinking about it had him reaching for other ideas.

"That." He pointed to the box in the corner. "Is the punishment box. If you gremlins fuck up, you're going in there."

Sting raised his hand. "Like time-out?"

"Yes."

"What's it say on the box?" Gajeel asked. Acnologia blinked in abject disbelief. "You can't...read?"

"Rogue can!" Sting exclaimed. "An' I think Wendy can, too!"

The Dragon of the Apocalypse ran a hand through his tangled hair. Was it possible to rip off someone's head if you pulled the hair hard enough? Probably. Was it possible to do it to yourself? Probably not. Never hurt anybody to try, though.

Leaving their Slayer illiterate was something he expected of Metalicana or Weisslogia. Maybe even Igneel if he were pushed enough but the so-called Dragon King had an ego big enough to rival his over-sized gecko-self and would see his Slayer being unable to read or write as a failure on his part, so Natsu should have been able to make out the letters; but the little shit stood stock-still, staring at the letters curiously.

Acnologia's job was keeping them alive. He had no business taking over their parent's roles.

"That says 'box'," Rogue said slowly. "I...think."

"That's a 'p'," Wendy pointed out helpfully.

"I'm almost ashamed to share the title Slayer with you," Acnologia muttered. "That's it, we're going to the Guild. I refuse to be associated with this mess."

* * *

Acnologia sorely wished he had thought to buy a child-leash.

It wasn't that the little shits ran off and he couldn't find them after; he had long ago learned to hyperfocus on certain scents or noises in a large crowd, and Slayers carried a distinct sort of ancient-magical trace that made it all the more easier, anyway. Beyond that most crowds tended to part a little for him out of fear. He was a virtual non-threat these days so long as no one bothered him, but the legends had done a lovely job of painting him as some sort of eldritch monstrosity right out of your worst nightmares and he was loathe to destroy that frankly flattering image.

No, the issue was that if the little shits were leashed then they wouldn't be running rampant and destroying everything like they were now.

"If you so much as light a spark near those shawls I will end you before you even get a chance to say your goodbyes," Acnologia hissed. Natsu pouted and let go of the gossamer pink fabric, trotting over to the next stall. Sting and Rogue were close on his heels. Gajeel was preoccupied with munching on a wrench he had found in the closet so he wouldn't wander far, and Wendy was too scared of the crowd to let go of Acnologia's pants.

"If you three idiots promise to keep away from the stalls and stay shut up for the two minutes it will take us to get to the Guild, I'll buy you all ice cream sundaes," he bribed them. Sting raised his hand. "What's an ice cream sundae?"

"Break the word down, stupid," Gajeel said arrogantly. "Ya turn ice into cream and then ya eat it on Sunday! An' he's lyin' because it's Monday!"

"Why are you lying?" Sting wailed. "I can't wait until Sunday! I wanna eat it now but you hafta wait until _Sunday_!" By now, the crowd's attention was solely on them.

 _Murder is wrong, murder is wrong, you can't get away with killing this whole crowd, murder is wrong,_ Acnologia repeated the sentence like it was the only thing keeping his feet attached to the ground. He couldn't _physically_ kill the crowd, but he could damn well instill the fear of imminent death into them.

"Ice cream is simply a frozen dairy substance," Rogue said quietly. "There is no stopping when you can eat it. A sundae is a type of ice cream."

Sting brightened. "Really? How'd you know?"

"It was on the lacrima-vision."

Acnologia was moderately impressed. He could vaguely sympathize with the culture shock (generation shock? Era shock?) that was old Fiore to new Fiore. It had taken him a while to adjust, but he had been older. He understood more. Then again, Makarov had always said kids were like sponges so it stood to reason that the gremlins would adjust quicker.

Well, one of them, anyway.

"It's so _big_!" Natsu screeched once they hit the base of Fairy Tail. Acnologia couldn't help but wince at how bright it was. Since his last visit nearly a year ago, Makarov had added at least fifty new hanging pieces of cloth, each vibrantly coloured and stamped with the Fairy Tail insignia. They had changed the colours of the Guild name again; the giant blue letters were now a hot-rod red. He squinted. There was something off about the building...

"These doors are heavy!" Sting complained. Both he and Natsu had taken up the task of trying to pry open the heavy oak double-doors to no avail. Gajeel eyed the metal touches with a hungry glint in his eye. Acnologia followed his gaze to the handles and almost groaned.

Tails. Makarov had changed the handles to the shape of tails. Where the _hell_ was he getting the funding for these unnecessary additions?

"Move," Acnologia ordered, grabbing the tails and pushing.

"Oh," Natsu whispered loudly. "It's a push door."

" _You_ said to pull!" Sting countered.

"Please stop fighting," Wendy put in quickly. "I-eep!"

The Chaos Dragon held the chair that had been hurtling towards her head by one of the legs. The Guild had fallen into the sort of silence that he'd come to associate with death. Satisfaction flooded his chest. Even after all this time he could freeze a crowd by appearance alone. Humans _always_ knew when to defer to the more powerful being and so long as he lived, that being would be _him_.

"Are those kids?" Macao Conbolt sputtered, the first to shake out of his stupor. "What the hell?"

"Acnologia has kids?"

"No way! How?"

"You mean _who_. Given how many there are…"

"I wouldn't mind tapping that. I mean, those tattoos? Meow."

Acnologia made a jerky 'follow me' gesture and the gremlins fell in line behind him. He spotted Gray Fullbuster and Cana Alberona sizing the new arrivals up, and some new blue-haired girl peered over the top of a ridiculously thick novel, only to squeak and duck her head when he passed her by. He snorted. What the hell was Fairy Tail letting into their ranks now? Little girls whose arms were so thin they struggled to hold up books? Next, they would be recruiting little blonde princesses to uphold their fairy image.

"This is a surprise," Makarov said once he stopped at the bar. Acnologia glanced down at the gaggle of Slayers. "Go."

Natsu, Sting, and Gajeel didn't have to be told twice. The pink haired tyke made a mad dash for the Fullbuster kid, eager to start something with the only male his age. Sting seemed content to follow his idol, and Gajeel was likely in it to initiate a brawl of some sorts. Luckily, Rogue stood nearby. If anything happened the little Shadow Slayer could put an end to it.

"Can I get an ice cream sundae, please?" Wendy asked. Makarov's face melted into something so sickeningly paternal that Acnologia almost gagged. This was why he refused to take on the role of father. What in the hell would people think if they saw the powerful, venerated Acnologia with _that_ expression on his face? The dark reputation he had maintained all these years would go down the drain and there was no way he could bring it back to where it was without committing mass murder and that was supposedly illegal now.

God, he hated this era.

"Of course you may!" Makarov said cheerfully. "Just pop on up and Rima will make you one! What's your name, little one?"

"Wendy Marvell," she replied.

"It is very nice to meet you, Miss Wendy! My name is Makarov Dreyar and I'm the Master of Fairy Tail. Everybody here just calls me gramps, though, so feel free to pick that up, too!"

"Thank you."

"What happened to the other mage who kept the bar?" Acnologia asked, more out of wanting to get the old man's attention away from the kid than genuine curiousity. Makarov's face fell. "Romeo died on a mission."

"Ah." That explained the extra banners outside. If he remembered it correctly then Romeo had utilized a type of cloth magic. He supposed Macao was taking it hard. The two had always been fairly close.

"So tell me, Acnologia. Unless you've been hiding several secret trysts over the years, I suppose they aren't yours."

"I'm amazed his royal idiocy didn't come blabbing to you sooner," Acnologia muttered. Louder, he said, "Private matter. Upstairs."

Makarov nodded in assent just as the new barkeep, Rima, slid Wendy an ice cream sundae almost as large as her head. Acnologia could almost hear their necks snap as four sets of Slayer-sharp eyes focused on the treat. "You shits can have some too, but behave. I'll be back."

If he could feel sorry, he would for Rima as seven other children just about stampeded over demanding ice cream.

* * *

"This is troublesome," Makarov exhaled a cloud of black smoke. Acnologia watched the cloud turn into wisps that melted into the air. Because he was a man of few words it had only taken about fifteen minutes to explain the situation. Serena would likely come by sometime later in the week to fill in any gaps (and there were plenty) that needed filling, so there was not much else he could do besides sit there in silence.

"I take it you will be finding a large enough residence?"

"Regrettably. The Council is finding me a new one."

"We could always place them in the dorms," Makarov offered. Acnologia leveled him with a blank stare. "These kids don't know what ice cream is and you think it's a wise idea to let them live on their own? Don't try to play it off, _Pippoco_. I know damn well what those dorms are like."

"You seem awfully protective," Makarov teased. "Do I detect some paternal affection here?"

"The hell would you know about that? We all see Ivan. Besides, they're the last of my kind. I have an...obligation."

"To them or to Anna?"

Acnologia tensed. The third master took another deep lungful of smoke from his pipe. "I saw how your face changed when you spoke of her. Ex-lover?"

"None of your business," he replied curtly. The duo fell into a comfortable silence once more, punctuated only by the occasional sound of smoke leaving the lungs or the steady tapping of Acnologia's finger against the chair's clawed arm.

"Do you know what your son is up to?" Acnologia asked suddenly. "He seems to be invested in the idea of dragons. One in particular. Bijaleyan."

Makarov turned pensive. Exhaustion settled into the creases of his skin and for the first time since they had met, the Titan Mage looked as old as he was. "I don't know," he admitted, rubbing his forehead. "Ivan has always been a bit of a mystery. Now that he has Laxus…"

"That's what I'm talking about. He seemed to take a special interest when he learned that the gremlins were Slayers. Add in how public the success of Project Hybrid is within the Guild, and you can see why I'm a little iffy. Especially because Bijaleyan is a lightning dragon."

"Laxus…" Makarov breathed. "You don't think..."

"Not my kin, not my problem," Acnologia said bluntly. "Next issue. Education. These shits can't read, probably can't write. I know you hire a tutor out for the other brats to meet the educational requirements set by Fiore. Take them into the program."

""Done. They'll need to join the Guild, of course, otherwise the expenses are coming out of your pocket," Makarov said. "The Free Education Act covers public schooling with the exclusion of university, and it covers children housed solely within Guilds if they cannot, for any reason, attend regular schooling. What should I sign off for them on the paperwork?"

"They traveled through time and are therefore quite uneducated," Acnologia responded dryly. "Make something up for all I care. They came from Desierto. Who knows."

"Reasonable. Shall we go down and initiate them?"

"Do I have a choice?"

* * *

Chaos did not even begin to describe the state of the Guild Hall.

It was like someone had taken every tub of ice cream in storage and smeared all available surfaces in it. Including humans.

At the center of it all were Natsu, Gajeel, Gray, and Sting, rolling around and attempting to drown one another in the treat. Cana was busy scooping bits of raspberry ripple off her arms and popping it in her mouth. The blue-haired girl from earlier was safe from the chaos, having ducked for safety behind the nearest upturned table. Rogue was nearby, looking like he was in pure bliss as he chowed down on the tub of double-chocolate fudge, and little Wendy was tearfully rubbing away at the mango delight staining her new dress. When she looked up at him, her lower lip wobbled. "I-I'm s-s-sorry! I g-got the dress you b-b-bought me d-d-dirty and t-t-they fought and I-I-I-!"

Makarov laughed. "Welcome to Fairy Tail, you little brats! What colour do you want your stamps and where do you want them?"

"Bath," Acnologia snarled. "Now. After you get stamped, we're going home and I'm shoving all of you in the punishment box at once I don't care _how_ fucking cramped it gets."

* * *

 **A/N:** really short, tbh, but just a groundwork chapters. I'm pretty tired, I shoukd go to bed...read, review, favourite and follow!

-touko


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